On that fateful Halloween night, Lily and James survived while Voldemort apparently 'marked' Harry Potter as his equal.
Aria Potter, twin sister of the boy-who-lived was proclaimed a squib, abandoned by her family and given to the care of the Dursl...
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The music had been pulsing through the gymnasium. Loud and dizzying, while lights danced across the walls.
But Peter didn't care about that.
He was grinning like a fool.
His tie was crooked from the sprint over, bruises all over his face, and his shoes were still scuffed from the alley he'd just launched out of five minutes prior.
But none of it mattered — none of it — because he'd done it.
He won.
And now he was going to tell Aria how he really felt.
He scanned the crowd, standing on the tips of his toes as his eyes darted around the sea of glittering dresses and awkward tuxes. There were too many people, too many moving teenagers.
"Have you seen Aria?" he asked a group of his classmates in passing. They barely registered him.
He finally spotted someone who might actually give a damn — Liz, standing near the punch table with her shoes in her hand and an exhausted look on her face.
"Liz!" he called, jogging over.
She turned, surprised, and blinked at him. "Peter? You okay?"
"Yeah," he panted, smiling nervously. "Where's Aria? I need to talk to her."
Liz paused, glancing around. "Uh... last I saw, she said she was heading to the bathroom. That was maybe two hours ago?"
Two hours?
Peter's stomach twisted. "That long?"
Liz shrugged. "I don't know, maybe she's—"
But he wasn't listening anymore.
He turned, pushing back through the crowd. "Aria?" he called, heading toward the hall near the bathrooms.
No response.
He waited outside the door, knocked gently. "Aria? You in there?"
Silence.
A few girls walked out, giving him weird looks. He stepped aside awkwardly, ran a hand through his hair.
"Okay..." he muttered, trying not to panic. He backtracked into the gym, looking again. He made a lap around the perimeter. Nothing.
Then he spotted it — her phone, sitting on their table next to her untouched drink.
Peter's heart dropped.
She never left her phone behind.
His fingers hovered over it. He picked it up slowly, staring at the home screen. Dozens of missed calls and texts.
